To Save A Life
by Aurorazola
Summary: If Snape faked his death, how would everyone take it, if he decided to come back out of hiding, four years later? Especially Harry Potter, who discovered he had feelings for the man, after he held him in his arms as he died? -Snarry-
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, this is my Snarry fic, so I'm a bit nervous of how this will turn out. I'm not sure how often I'll post, unfortunately, as I'm not planning this in advance, and it's unbeta'ed. (If you want to beta, pm me^_^) I am excited about this plot, and I hope everyone reading this will enjoy it too! I'm always happy to recieve reviews, and they encourage me to write quicker, and even write more than otherwise, so review away! On to the story! -Auro**

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Severus Snape. The most feared Potions Master at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. At least, he used to be. Not much to be feared of when said Potions Master is dead. Well, he's supposed to be. Everyone think's he is. But, for some reason, the man is alive and well. If 'well' can be constituted as living in solitude and never venturing farther than his yard. Out of everyone Snape knew, even in passing, only one knew he was alive- Minerva McGonagall. The woman was _insufferable,_ but she was also his lifeline, bringing him food, and news of the Wizarding World struggling to build itself up again.

Snape moved to the door of his tiny cottage, hidden in the remote jungle of a remote island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It was perfect for his resources, because it only had one other village on it, and the islandlers knew to keep their mouths shut about him, if anyone ever came asking. Stepping outside, he donned his Japanese styled hat, blocking his face from the sun, all the years skulking in the dungeons having apparently done irreparable damage. His jeans were dirt dusted, though he still wore his heavy wizard robe, not willing to completely give up his wizarding ways.

He walked quickly and purposefully towards his gardening shed, undoing any of his wards he'd set up last time with some quick, wordless magic. He grasped several tools, including a spade, and then made his way to the garden he kept, growing full of vegetables and herbs, as well fruits and even some flowers, though they were few and far between. His garden was lush, and overflowing with obviously cared for plants. It was easy to see that Snape spent quite a lot of time outside tending to it, though if asked, he would either deny it, or snap out something to do with having nothing else to occupy him. Bending down, he began to dig around weeds attempting to invade his space, and patiently culled them back, mostly likely, even Snape was willing to admit, the first time he patience for anything since Lily was in his life.

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As dusk began to settle in the evening sky, a lone figure cloaked in emerald made it's way up the dirt path towards a lone cottage, set into the trees. They noticed the man digging in his garden, before the man noticed them. "Severus." She said warmly, standing off to the side, from experience. It came in handy, considering Snape turned around with his wand drawn, a curse halfway spoken.

He quickly cut himself off, snarling. "Minerva. Couldn't have given me a warning? Or called ahead, perhaps?" Years of solitary living had done nothing to dull Snape's sharp tongue, something McGonagall noted with amusement.

"Would you have allowed me to come, if you knew, Severus?" She asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer. "I have come to ask a favor." She admitted, knowing he didn't appreciate drawing small talk out.

"No." He drawled, going back to digging the weeds out of his plot of land.

"You don't even know what it is I'm planning to ask you!" She cried, exasperated already, only having been in the man's presence for a few minutes.

"I believe it is safe to assume that someone, somewhere, has approached you, needing help with a drastic and mortal problem that you believe only I can solve." Snape murmured, not looking up. "Am I correct?"

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, but,"

"No." He said again. "No one is to know I'm alive. We've discussed this. It's better this way."

"For God's sake, Severus! The Ministry has given you an Order of Merlin First Class! What could be the worst that would happen?" She demanded, knowing this person would need the help of only this man- no one else would work.

"They would revoke it, Minerva. I'm dead." He said flatly, standing and turning to face her, wiping his long, pale hands on his dark jeans. "It is safe to give such an honor to a dead man; An alive former death eater, the murderer of Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore, they would give to the dementors in a heartbeat."

McGonagall sighed. "I should have known that this would be hopeless. I will return with the news that their life is forfeit, I suppose." She said, playing one last guilt trip, though she knew it was pointless.

"Who is this person?" Snape asked, telling himself he wasn't curious, just that if he even considered helping them, he deserved the information he asked for.

"If you won't help them, why should it matter who's life is ending?" McGonagall countered, starting out down the lane once again, leaving the black haired man to his thoughts, and bitter self-doubts.

"Meddling old fool." He mumbled, walking into his house, not bothering to put his gardening tools away, something he'd never forgotten to do since his time being here. "I owe no one anything. The person can just find someone else to help." He murmured, though a seed of guilt stuck in the back of his mind throughout the night, keeping Snape from his sleep.

"Damn her." He muttered the next morning, pulling on his black slacks and Wizarding Robe, looking much as he did when teaching, though several years older, and thinner, if possible. "This _does not mean I'm helping._" Snape growled to himself, setting off down his dirt path, poorly made, and headed for the nearest floo station, to take him to Hogsmeade, so that he could meet with McGonagall, and agree to give this mystery person at least a chance, a chance to prove they were worth abandoning his secret, even if to only one person.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh my gosh^_^. Three reviews on my first chapter, and it's only been up for a day. I'm so thankful! Woo! And just for that, I'm taking my time to write the second chapter today, though I can't promise every chapter will come this fast. **

**Anyways, Amazing Thanks to AlmondWithUnicornHair, JustPlainAmy, and SevenBlackRoses, for being my first three reviewers! And Awesome Thanks to the ones who added me to Story Alerts! I know you're reading too! Continue to review, I love them, and another batch of virtual cookies for those who do. Enough of my rant, and on with the story!**

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"Headmaster." The young man said as he strolled into the room. He looked tired, worn, and several years older than he actually was, though most would assume that it was the price paid of being the Boy Who Lived. Minerva McGonagall, however, knew the truth.

"Minerva, Harry, you have easily earned that right." She corrected gently, inwardly cringing at the easy to see difference even from last week in the boy's weight, and coloring. Inwardly, the Headmaster winced, knowing the boy would only grow progressively worse, unless help was found. And the only help there was, refused to give up their plentiful pride and self-pity to help someone in dire need. Growling lightly, McGonagall straightened in her chair and faced Harry, hoping he hadn't heard her growl. It would be terribly indecent for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to be caught doing something as indignified as growling.

"I was just wondering..." He began hesitantly, if you'd heard anything about the... er, help you said you could possibly find?" Harry asked, knowing he was being a bother, but not knowing what to do about it.

"You're never a bother, Harry." McGonagall said, easily guessing the direction of the boy's thoughts, not only from his expressive green eyes, but because she had taught him for six years, and knew his penchant for self- guilt. "And, actually, I _did_ speak to the person I found who could help you, but unfortunately," She knew her face tightened in fierce disapproval, "They are unwilling to give up their privacy to help you. I am terribly sorry, Harry." She said softly, regretfully, knowoing she could now do nothing to help, but wishing she could.

"It's okay, Minerva." Harry said softly, accepting it. It had been a vain hope that he could be cured, and Harry knew it, and had accepted his early demise, knowing he could have easily died during the war. "It's not like I couldn't have died during the war. This is just another way to prematurly meet my parents. It is not your fault." He murmured. "But if you'll excuse me, with my apologies, I have some other things to do today, and a couple of people to meet up with."

"Of course, Harry. I'm sorry." She said, smiling gently, an extremely rare expression on the Headmasters face. "If I can bring them around, I will floo-call you, or owl." McGonagall said, watching sadly as he stood and turned to go.

Harry strode out of the office, not willing to admit that he had hoped for the help he knew he needed. He knew he promised to visit the Weasley's to give them the news, whether good or bad, but he couldn't, not just then. Instead, he went down to the black lake, not quite willing to leave Hogwart's grounds just yet, but wanting the solitude, to process that he really would be dying. "I really will be accepting this." He said wearily, dropping his head into his hands, his elbrows resting on his knees.

The black lake swirled calmly onto the shore, and made gentle ripples, unaffected by the world around it, as Harry knew the world would be, at least eventually, of his own death.

"Still wallowing in self-pity, as you were back in school, Potter?" a deep, smooth voice drawled, coming from somewhere behind the boy. Harry froze, not daring to believe his ears, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Yo- you're dead."

"Another unimpressing show of obtusity from the former Gryffindor." Snape said dryly, glaring at the messy haired boy, _No,_ Snape shook his head, _Man. _

"I watched you die!" Harry protested, his ability to speak reappearing at the usual snarky remark from the Professor that had hated Harry. Or so Harry thought, until that night. "I held you, and watched Nagini bite you, and you _cried!"_ Snape flinched, not wanting to be reminded of the painful night that his life had almost ended.

"I was there as well, Potter. I know what happened. You left, and Fawkes appeared, apparently deciding I was worth saving." He said, not willing to go into any more detail, especially with Potter.

Harry stood, not sure if he was relieved, ecstatic or pissed beyond belief. Deciding he was a mixture of all three, he then had to decide how to physically react. He stood there, staring, taking in his fill of the professor whom he thought dead for years, the one who his feelings had changed drastically over the years. The black hair had been trimmed, only hitting the sharp and narrow chin, rather than shoulders, and the man looked even thinner, Harry noted, as well as his hair not being quite as greasy as it used to be. Harry was amused to notice that the Wizard robes hadn't changed a bit, Snape choosing intimidation over style.

Before the man really knew what he was doing, Harry's fist was flying out, and smashing into Snape's nose. He stood there, dazed, not sure of why he'd done, other than his anger winning out, and Harry feeling betrayed, extremely so. Without a word, he strode off towards the gates, leaving the Potions Master to stare in near wonder, his hand cupped to his now broken nose, watching the young man stride off.

"Damn it." Snape muttered. "Episky." He mumbled pointing his wand at his face, and flinching slightly at the pain. "Scourgify." The bubbles brushed lightly across his face, ridding himself of the blood that had dripped onto his face and robes. Sighing deeply, the glare on his face intensified as the man headed for McGonagall's office.

"Severus." McGonagall said, shocked at the remaining blood on the man's face. "What happened?" She asked, noting the man's intense glare, one more fierce than he usually kept fixed upon his face.

"Stupid, imbecilic, impulsive Gryffindors." McGonagall watched, eyes widening, as Snape proceeded to insult Gryffindors in general, and then Potter in particular. She quickly put together what had happened.

Calmly, she stared at the pissed off man. "You deserved it, Severus." She said. "You allowed the boy to think you had died for years. Did you know that he blames himself for your death?" She asked, wanting him to know what he'd caused by trying to hide his life from the public. Severus stared in mute silence.

"It'd be like the idiotic boy to blame himself for something the Dark Lord caused." He said angrily.

"It's like his giving personality, Severus." McGonagall said. "You need to find him, and help him. Do you understand now?" She asked, wondering, if in his angry state, he'd even noticed the boy's appearance. "Did you see the hollowness of his cheeks, the shadows in his eyes? The bones you can see in his wrists? I bet if you managed to see his chest, you'd be able to count the ribs." She murmured, staring deeply into the man's eyes.

Snape thought quickly, and his eyes widened. He hadn't realized that the boy had been ill, but it was now painfully easy to see that Harry Potter was the one that Minerva wanted him to help. "He's dying, isn't he, Minerva?" He asked, calmly, with no expression on his face.

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**A/N: Yes, another Authors note. Bear with me. I haven't quite decided what to make Harry's illness, so, review or PM with your ideas, and I may pick one! It needs to be something halfway believeable though. Thank you again for favoriting and reviewing! Keep it up, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Wow.. Im actually writing a chapter three... I'm so amazed at myself! The reviews help. It's a motivation that I'm not the only one reading this^_^.**

**Amazing thanks to DeathLies, NightShadeHetalia, diana17hp, arisflame, katwinchester, JustPlainAmy, Momoluvsu13, Asphodel21, PuddlemereBeater, and AlmondWithUnicornHair all for Favoriting, reviewing, or story alerting this story^_^. You have no idea how happy it makes me! **

**Another thanks to whoever helped me with suggestions of Harry's illness- it definately helped me make up my mind. I don't know if we'll see what it is this chapter, but I have decided. Read on, my readers, and on with the story! -Auro**

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"Idiot. Stupid, greasy git, deciding he knows best!" Harry mumbled, walking blindly along a gravel road, away from the school, away from the man he thought dead. "McGonagall knows, I bet. Bad as Dumbledore, that one, on occasion." He muttered, hands thrust into his pockets of his light washed jeans, his shoes scraping the ground. "Four years. Four damn long years, and I blame myself, and I feel awful, and think I'm going to reminisce for the rest of my life, and he's fucking alive! Damn man." Harry ended up at the Three Broomsticks, and found himself ordering a firewhiskey- something he probably shouldn't have done, all things considering. "Come skulking back into my life, like the damn dungeon bat he fancies himself, and thinks he can go back to insulting me? After I saw his damn memories. Stupid git." The entire room was giving the skeleton-thin man plenty of room, politely attempting to not listen to his outburst, and for the one person who _did_ recognise him, well, she brought his firewhiskey without a word, patted his head, and walked back behind the bar to wipe more glasses and take other orders.

It said something, he supposed, of how close to dying he was, if no one in the wizarding world could recgonize him from behind anymore. It did nothing to help the young man's temper. "Didn't even notice my fucking differences. Git." Not that Harry had wanted Snape to notice. That would mean questions, and the boy-who-lived still didn't like answering those. Especially to people he thought _dead._ "I'm almost complete bone, all of my quidditch muscle gone, and the bat couldn't even tell? Blind, in his damn old age." Harry muttered, tossing back the glass of firewhiskey and motioning to Rosmerta for another. The woman shook her head sadly, poured the man a butter beer, and stared remorselessly when he glared, realizing it wasn't acohol.

"You don't need another, dear, not in the state your in. You might go punch this man." She said, knowing the boy would do it.

"Too late to worry about that, Madame Rosmerta." Harry said glumly, his tirade, for the moment, drained. "I broke it twenty minutes ago." Tsking, the barmaid left him to himself, and tended to another customer, giving warning glares to keep the others away from the boy, knowing he might hurt someone if they bothered him in this state.

Just thinking about Snape made Harry angry all over again. "Nothing's changed apparently." He growled. "I'm supposed to act as though I've never seen those memories, then? That he never cried in front of me? That he hated me passionately? I'm expected to hate him still? Imbecilic git." He muttered, staring balefully into his butterbeer, wistfully hoping it would magically turn into firewhiskey. Odder things had happened.

Harry startled so badly that he fell off of his barstool and hit the wooden floor with an_ oof!_ Glaring up at the man concealed fully in a cloak, with a hood pulled up to conceal his face, Harry stood, dusted himself off, grabbed the man's exposed hand, and drew him outside. He refused to let go, even at the man's protests.

"Shut up. You owe me a damn explanation, before I decide to just curse your nose off next time." Harry growled, still dragging the older man towards an abandoned alley. He pulled them all the way to the Shrieking Shack, knowing it was still thought to be haunted, and that no one would be there.

Letting go, Harry spun around, kicking ineffectively at the ground. "Good job, Potter." Snape said dryly, smirking at his angry growl.

"Why?" He demanded, angry beyond belief.

"Articulate, as always. I'll assume you mean, why am I not dead? Or why I allowed everyone to believe I was?" Snape asked, eyes narrowing when Harry nodded at the second question. "Very well." He sighed, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I am a former Death Eater, Potter."

"Spy." Harry corrected automatically, his anger dwindling as his thought process once again started to function and he started, just barely, seeing Snape's point of view.

"Yes, well, that doesn't matter to the general public, does it, Mr. Celebrity?" Snape asked, venom dripping from his tone. He leaned against a tree, still looking as intimidating as ever, even halfway relaxed as he was.

"Why would you care what they think, Snape?" Harry asked, knowing the Potion's Master had never cared before.

"As much as you'd like to assume, I do enjoy living a more pleasureable life than one in Azkaban." Snape said, closing his eyes at the ineptitude of the young man standing before him. "Do you really believe they would let me walk free? Dumbledore's murderer? You've grown daft over the last four years, Potter, to believe that."

Harry growled again, words failing him. "Whatever. I know you're alive now. Why reveal yourself? McGonagall said you wouldn't help." He said, not wanting to refer to his illness, but knowing Snape had to know, considering he would be the one McGonagall went to for help. It made sense.

"Yes, well, she is rather like Dumbledore with her persuasion tactics." Snape muttered, heat just barely trailing up his face. He refused to admit that he'd felt guilty.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't care. "Did she even tell you what was wrong with me, Snape? Or did your ego get in the way again, and you just assumed that you could cure me?" He sniped, knowing it was unfair, but needing a ventilation for his anger. Snape happened to be a good one, in Harry's opinion.

"She decided it was your story to tell, Potter." Snape glared, unaffected by the implied, rather obvious insult Harry had thrown at him. "So, start telling, or my trip here will be pointless and wasted."

"Oh, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" Harry asked, sarcasm cutting through the air like a knife, one Snape efficently deflected. Sighing, he sat cross-legged on the ground, placing his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"Apparently, being a... half-blood," Harry started, reluctantly using the derogatory term to quicken explanations, "opens your immune system to muggle diseases. It's not much of a differences, but it does make one. I happened to be the lucky one in twenty thousand that actually contracted a muggle disease." He muttered softly, bitterly. "It's a form of cancer, and the magic in me cancels radiation treatments, meaning there _is_ no treatment." He finished, staring up the man, wondering how he'd take it. "The muggle doctor, _and_ the healer gave me around three more months to live."

Snape stared in silence, looking in wonder at the boy sitting on the ground in front of him. Three months. The boy that killed Voldemort would die a man at entirely too young an age. His mind automatically started combining various potions and ingredients, variations of them both, and cauldron types, trying to ascertain whether it was even possible. "You will..." Snape trailed off, uncomfortable with offering, let alone it be this man in particular. Swallowing, he closed his eyes and sighed. "You'll have to come stay with me while I try out potions that may help. I need a supply of your blood, as well as having you there to easily try the potion, so that I may study the reaction you have to them.

Harry stared in shock. His immediate response was to say _hell no,_ but he knew that he needed help if he wanted to live. That he needed this man's help in particular. "I need to tell the Weasley's that I'll be gone." At Snape's easy glare, Harry smirked. "Your death will remain public, I swear. I won't tell them who I'm with. Rest easy, Snape." He stood, his face screwed in pain as the cancer tissue contracted and moved inside him.

Snape watched, impassive outwardly, a sense of pity inside, as the young man obviously stood in pain. He refused to help, though, because he knew Harry wouldn't accept it, and because it wasn't in him to offer. "I will send a portkey to McGonagall. It will activiate tomorrow at 3:35 p.m. Do not miss it." He warned, gliding off like the bat everyone likened him too.

This time it was Harry left staring at the back of a man he was amazed at. "Damn git." He muttered, stooping painfully to create a snowball. One he threw at Snape's back as he stood. The infuriating older man he was, simply sidestepped without turning around, and continued on his way. Always one step ahead. "Fucking greasy git." Harry mumbled, walking back towards Hogsmeade, knowing he now had to face the Weasley's and tell them an excuse, or a lie, of why he would be unreachable, and somehow manage not to get their hopes up. His already were, which Harry knew he needed to stop.

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**A/N: Oh my gosh. xD Just to clear something up. His cancer is completely muggle, that was just the best way I could think to describe it as it caused him pain.**

**And I'm awful at description, I realize this, have been lectured this, and have been hit several times for. I apologize. It's something I work on, but when I do, it comes out all description and little plot-_- I can't win. I will try harder, but I don't know how that'll work... So, this is sort of dialogue driven. Sorry:P **

**Continue to review, my lovely readers, I love reading them all. They make me fuzzy inside^_^.**

**And, as a fangirl moment, I will shamelessly push my new favorite Anime, Nodame Cantabile. All of you music lovers should at least watch Season 1, which has been English Dubbed, and Season 2 and 3 are English Subbed. It's so amazing, and Chiaki's English voice makes me melt*Fangirl moment over* Anyways, ... -/- Heh. -Auro**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am so sorry. Here I thought I was doing good with updating, but I didn't Friday, thinking I was leaving for a trip. Unfortunately, we didn't go until Saturday. To make it up to everyone, I'm going to post three chapters in quick succession, for the three days I didn't post. **

**Thanks to Rozalla, Franv, Dem Bones, Theosheron, Asphodel21, Kriskow13, Dreaming End, Erowen, , Callie Longworth, Dax33, AlmondWithUnicornHair, JustPlainAmy, and my one Anonymous reviewer, I appreciate the reviews, comments, favorites, and alerts. They mean so much to me! *tear***

**Geez. Road trips are awful. With a seven month old puppy trying to crawl onto your computer, its even worse. I'm typing this on a highway somewhere on the way to someplace, and my stepmom is teasing me about the dog trying to help me-.-" Anyways, enough of my sidetrip, none of you care :D. On with the chapter, -Auro.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned this- I do not. I own my plot bunny, and Benji. If J.K Rowling wanted to sell me Harry Potter, I would unfortunately not be able to afford him. Sorry.**

"But Harry dear, why can't you tell us where you'll be? You know we worry. I've always thought of you as my own..." As Molly Weasley once again expanded on how Harry was really just an honorary family member, and that they all loved him and wanted to protect him. Harry, as usual, began to tune her out, and thought instead of the man who was convinced he could cure cancer. The young man wasn't sure whether to believe him, but didn't want to get his hopes up.

Looking around the burrow, Harry noted that over the years, nothing had really changed. The people aged, yes, and minute items disappeared or reappeared, but the giant grandfather clock remained, and the knitting needles we're in their basket, waiting for the spell from Molly Weasley to animate them. Harry quickly noted all of the Weasley's that had apparated or flooed in, and noticed that many of the immediate ones came, bringing their families along. This made for a very crowded home.

Hermione and Ron Weasley, with a young Hugo and even younger Rose; George and his Partner Benjamin, Benji for short; Angelina and her son, Fred, who had both been adopted into the family when they realized how much Angelina had meant to Fred, the twin; Percy and his wife Penelope, which no one was surprised about; Charlie had even arrived for the occasion, taking off his work with Gringotts, and everyone one but Harry himself knew Charlie's affection for the man was more than just brotherly love- not that anyone would be enlightening Harry of that fact; Bill and Fleur had also arrived, bring with them Victoire.

Harry sighed, knowing all of them would protest his leaving. All of them were protective, all of them caring, and he knew he'd have to convince every one of them that it would be okay. Not an easy task.

"Mrs. Weasley, honestly, I know I'll be okay. This person won't hurt me." Physically, he thought, though he didn't voice that out loud. "He really believes he can help, and I've got nothing much to lose anymore." Harry left it at that, knowing he needed to convince the others before the matriarch of Weasley's, because he knew that if they were convinced, he would have help. "We can discuss it later, if you'd like. I know it's a family dinner, and it's rare all of us are together and free."

Reluctantly, Mrs. Weasley nodded, and gave Harry a tight hug, one he awkwardly returned, before heading to the kitchen to start on dinner. As usual, he offered to help, and as usual, she refused firmly. Smiling softly, he turned to the Weasley standing next to him, and motioned towards the backyard.

Charlie followed Harry quietly, sending a warning glance at George, who was looking contemplative that Harry had picked Charlie to speak to first. He knew it was only because he had made the effort to get close to him, even if it was slightly selfish in nature.

"You've already decided." Charlie said quietly, leaning against the back shed where Mr. Weasley kept his muggle artifacts.

"Yeah." Harry said, keeping it simple. He leaned up against the long haired man, not putting deep thought into it, just knowing that he felt comfort and safety in doing it. Charlie only wrapped an arm around him, secretly glad no one could see him do so- they would make an enormous deal out of something Harry took only as a brotherly gesture.

"Nothing will change your mind, I suppose? Or get you to at least tell me?" He prodded, already knowing the answer, but needing to ask, to be able to say to his family that he tried.

Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "He would murder me in my sleep, Charlie. And get away with it." He added, smirking slightly. Charlie noticed it, and made a mental note. He was one of the few people that knew Harry had preferences towards Blokes, and probably the only one who knew how Harry acted when he liked one.

"How is that going to be, Runt," Charlie asked, teasing Harry, "Staying with this man for a period of time? You like him." He said calmly, already knowing that he wasn't meant for the black haired, green eyed teen, though it didn't keep him from liking the young man more than he should.

"Yes, well, that's beside the point, Charlie." Harry muttered, frowning, and kicked a rock- directly onto the head of a gnome, causing it to stumble around confused for several minutes. "Considering the man would never like me in return."

Immediately, Charlie deduced that the man was straight, and though Harry could tell the man had jumped to the wrong conclusion, he let him stay there, knowing it'd be easier than explaining.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Charlie murmured, kissing the boy's head firmly. Unlike Harry, Charlie was open about his preferences, and everyone in his family knew, and accepted it. Harry just didn't know how specific his feelings were for him.

"Not your fault, Charlie." Harry mumbled, burrowing his head into the man's shoulder.

"Doesn't keep me from synthesizing." Charlie protested, trying to lighten the moment a bit. Harry allowed it to work, and grinned just a little.

"Will you help me with this?" He asked, serious now. Charlie sighed, nodding. There was only one choice for him, though Harry didn't know it. When a relieved look crossed his face, the older Weasley realized just how much his opinon meant to the boy.

"Thank you, Charlie." Harry said, hugging the man tightly. Charlie breathed in deeply, trying very hard not to let the hug affect him the way it wanted to.

"You're welcome, Runt. Better go convince another Weasley. May I suggest Bill and Fleur? Fleur is especially fond of you ever since the Triwizard Tournament, and we both know she has Bill wrapped around her finger." Charlie advised, grinning. Harry grinned back, and walked back inside, not once lookiing back. He may have been alarmed if he had, considering he would have caught Charlie with an uncomfortable look on his face, his hand subtly trying to adjust the bulge in his pants.

Harry thanked whatever power was watching over him as he noticed Bill and Fleur off to the side of the small living room, talking with each other, though they were alone, as everyone else was either helping in the kitchen, or out in the makeshift quidditch pitch.

"Fleur, Bill, hadn't had a chance to say hello." Harry said as greeting smiling at Fleur as she kissed his cheek. "How have you been?" he asked, directing it towards Bill, and the man smiled, the scar on his cheek stretching, though Harry didn't react, used to it, and knowing how the man got it.

"Okay, Harry. Might want to improve your deception. We both know why you made a special effort to talk to us." Bill said, teasing, but meaning it as well.

Sheepish, Harry smiled, and Fleur giggled. " Iz Okay, 'Arry." She reassured. Her accent wasn't as bad anymore, though when she was upset or stressed it tended to come out more.

"Thanks, Fleur." He said gratefully, not wanting the couple to think he didn't like them, or only talked to them when he wanted something.

"I will support you, Harry. As will Fleur. In fact," Bill mentioned, slightly sidetracked, "It's what we were discussing when you walked up. This won't hurt anything, could only help at this point." Harry nodded, leaning back in the chair he had sat down in. He was getting tired, physically at least, which frustrated him to no end, though he knew he could do nothing about it. "Just promise to owl, will you, Harry?" Bill asked, worrying about his mother.

"I will." He grinned, knowing where Bill's thoughts had gone, and Fleur smiled gently at him, glad his spirits were still somewhat high, despite his circumstances. "Thank you. Both of you." Harry hugged Fleur, then Bill, and stood slowly, trying to hide his wince of pain, one they both caught anyways. They pretended not to, and pointed to the quidditch pitch.

"George is refereeing, if you'd like to speak to him next. Benji," Bill snorted disdainfully. None of the Weasley's thought the man good enough for George, "is playing beater for one of the teams."

"Thanks." Harry nodded and headed outside, rubbing his temples, willing his headache away, at least until he could give into the pain and sink into oblivion for just a few hours.

"Hey there, George." Harry commented, apparently staring intently up at the figures on brooms, fighting each other for the quaffle.

"Don't even try with me, Harry." The man said, not glancing over. "If I didn't agree with you going away to get help, nothing would sway me." He said calmly, then caught Ron trying to play off a catch that had gone through. "Foul, Dad's side!" He called, and the other team cheered. Ron sent dirty looks towards his brother, but George only shrugged.

"So," Harry said, vaguely confused, "You _do_ agree with me going?"

"Does it matter?" George asked flatly, still not looking at his surrogate brother. "You'd go anyways. The only reason you're trying to convince mum is because you're too nice for your own good."

Harry grinned sheepishly, then collapsed on the ground. "Yes, well, if I have Charlie," George got a funny look on his face, one Harry didn't catch, "Bill, Fleur _and_ you on my side to help me, I think I can get her to be fine with it."

"Fine, Harry." George agreed, finally checking to look over at the young man. "But only because you're my partner at the joke shop." A twinkle had finally appeared in the man's eyes, and Harry felt relieved.

"Good." He said, sighing. "Because this is going to be awful. I leave tomorrow." Even George's eyes widened, and Harry stood quickly, wanting to head this off. "I wasn't given a choice. I have a portkey, and the man set the time." George nodded, knowing there wasn't much of a choice if Harry was telling the truth. And Harry never lied, at least, not to his family, not unless it was to protect them.

"Help me referee, Runt." George said, ruffling the shorter man's hair. Harry glared, but gave in with a chuckle and looked towards the sky. "I'm not _that_ short." He said defensively. "Your whole family of males is just freakishly tall." George snickered, but said nothing, and the two stood in companionable silence except for the occasional call of fouls.

**A/N: Okay. I'm so sorry. I didn't think I would have wifi, and this is actually pretty spotty. So, we'll see how this goes. I know this chapter was wordy, but I wanted to get in Harry's interaction with the Weasleys, and maybe some drama*wink wink*. I should post again today, but that depends if I finish the chapter. I'll try, because that will keep me on schedule, but if I don't, please accept this poor teen's apology, and the excuse that she is spending time with her family today and tomorrow. Continue to review, I love them, -Auro.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Well, I give up trying to catch up on my chappys, so, we're just one day behind now :D. Sorry 'bout that. Maybe my regularly increasing chappy lengths will help. I hope. I'm still in Kansas, and my little one year old cousin Lily, is so adorable, and sent three random messages of nonsense to my friend. Who thought it was freaking awesome. So glad my friend understands x). How my little cousin managed to unlock the phone, start a message, click my friends name, and then type out a nonsense message, send it, I have NO IDEA. xD She's a smart little girl. Cute too. Anyways, none of you probably read that, which is okay. ^_^**

**Thanks to JustPlainAmy, Rozallo, cherryblossomfallingintherain, Eve Jackson, zentry, Fluttersby, Siacheckers, Puzzle Me This, jfjc, anemic93, AstraeaCassiopeia, Magale310, Klaine-Finchel-Potter-Weasley, and Anonymous for the reviews, favorites, and adding me to alert lists xD. It means a lot.**

**On with my story, -Auro.**

McGonagall sat behind the ornate desk in her office, fingering the bracelet she held between her fingers, noting absently, and wondering silently, why Severus had picked _that_ particular form of portkey. Because of the subject she taught, and still sometimes did, she knew the jewels embedded around in the charms helped with certain side and aftereffects of travelling by portkey. Considering the ruby helped with the dizziness, emerald with nausea, diamond with the claustrophobic feeling in the process of moving, and opal to help dim the memory, McGonagall knew they were picked, in particular, to help Harry with the trip.

She guessed, intuitively, and she was usually correct, that Severus didn't despise Harry Potter as much as he let on, and that he didn't want to make the boys condition worse than it was. She smiled softly to herself, wondering what exactly would happen between the two men in their extended forced cooperation with each other, and their lengthened close proximity. She knew, as one of the two people that had figured it out, that Harry was not straight, and she assumed, in his appearence four years ago at Severus' funeral, that the boy didn't harbor harsh feelings as he had in the past. M

McGonagall decided she was going to check in on the two periodically, just to see how things were progressing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door, followed by Harry himself quietly stepping into the office. He looked around, seeming to take in, as he did every time he walked into her office, that it had changed drastically from Albus Dumbledore's time as Headmaster.

"Are you read, Harry?" McGonagall asked, holding the portkey out, then glancing at the clock. "You only have a minute."

Harry nodded, taking the bracelet from her fingers and staring at it curiously. "Why would he use such a valuable item as this to make a portkey?" He questioned, recognizing the stones, if not what they did magically.

"I doubt he thought of that, Harry." McGonagall said simply, deciding that if Severus wanted him to know, he could tell the young man himself.

"Alright, then." He nodded, and stood there silently, and as he felt the insistant pull behind his navel, he smiled briefly, almost reassuringly, at McGonagall before disappearing with a small pop.

As he landed, Harry tried to figure out why the squeezing wasn't as bad, and why he didn't feel nauseous as he normally did when travelling by magic. His wondering was quickly forgotten and let go when he noticed the small house surrounded by thick trees, and a large garden. He missed the dark figure standing on the small porch, leaning against the pole, staring impassively, as he was too busy spinning in wonder at the beauty of the remote home. He walked slowly towards the building, knowing he needed to announce himself before exploring any further.

Harry had made it nearly to the steps of the porch before he saw the man standing there, and he flinched slightly at the now dark expression on his face. "Snape." He said quietly, not knowing how to react. He held out the portkey to his elder, thinking that the man would want such a beautiful piece of accessory back.

The man shook his head, but took the bracelet before almost expressionlessly clasping it around the younger man's still extended wrist. "Keep it." He murmured, before gliding off inside the house.

Harry stood in shock, staring down at the former portkey now attached firmly to his wrist. It wasn't a girly bracelet, by any means, a simple silver, with round charms hanging off them periodically. He picked at the charms, noticing one new one that hadn't been there before: a charm with obsidian. He wondered why Snape would add an extra stone, but let it go, deciding he could always ask later, and followed the man into his home.

"Uh," He started, when he saw the man in the kitchen.

Snape cut him off uncerimoniously. "Your room is the second on the left, bathroom is the door before that, my room is the single door on the right, do not _ever _enter that room. Same goes for my potions room, not without my permission. Understand?" He asked sharply.

Harry silently nodded, reeling.

"Breakfast is at seven sharp, you are on your own for lunch and dinner. Do not disturb me when I am working, do not destroy my garden, and if you read a book, _put it back._"

The young man nodded, and watched, impassive as he could, as Snape swept out of the room, and the house, to God knew where. Harry headed towards his assigned room, and enlarged his bag so he could unpack.

He pulled his wand out of his back pocket, a habit he had never broken, despite Mad-Eye Moody's warnings of dire consequences. Waving it, clothes flew out of his small knapsack and neatly folded themselves before landing in opened dresser drawers.

Harry was vaguely surprised that Snape would think to give him a dresser, so the young man automatically assumed that the chest of drawers had already been in here. While his anger had dimmed signifigantly from what it had been, it still wasn't giving Snape any points in his favor. Sighing, he pulled out a single photo frame, one that had a picture of all of the Weasley's in it- including the ones that tended to travel.

Harry stared down at it, plopping on his bed, and looked at each one individually, as it was a Wizard photo, each person was moving, and they tended to do so, Harry had noticed, with their real life personality. The only one that stuck out at the moment was Charlie, who stopped joking with Bill long enough to stare straight out and wink, before going back to pulling at his elder brother's hair.

He nearly dropped the photo in shock, but quickly reminded himself that it was simply a charm, and wasn't actually real. He set the frame on his dresser and stood to go outside. Might as well explore while it was light, if Snape wasn't willing to talk to him. He cautiously stepped foot on the porch, and seeing the yard Snape-free, Harry ventured into the garden, noticing weeds here and there, overlooked.

Kneeling, he worked at it barehanded, not minding the dirt or grit on his jeans or shirt, reasoning he could just spell them clean later. He got absorbed in his methodical work, almost completely blocking out the rest of the world around him, as gardening nearly always did with him. Harry never had the green thumb Neville did with Magical plants, but Muggle plants he was fair with, if only from years of practice with the Dursley's.

Time passed quickly, beyond Harry's notice, and soon, he was at the edge of the garden, a large pile of weeds at the edge, where Harry had been throwing them. Standing, Harry wiped his now almost completely brown hands on his thighs, hoping to get at least the lose dirt off. He noticed Snape come out of the shed from the side of the yard, and guessed that it must be where the man worked his potions. Snorting, Harry bent to pick up some of the weeds and throw them into the jungle.

He watched, warily amused, as Snape noticed him, the garden, and the many pulled weeds. His eyes widened alarmingly, and Harry realized the man probably thought he'd ruined his precious garden from spite. He stood still, tall, unwilling to be intimidated once again. At least willingly.

Snape stalked closer, his anger growing, until he looked closely, carefully, and realized every plant Potter had pulled had been a weed. "I didn't realize you knew _how_ to do manual labor, Potter." Snape sneered, needing to cover up his near blunder. Severus Snape_ never _made mistakes.

Harry growled lightly. Snape knew full and well that the Dursley's mistreated him, and that he did _all_ the work. He took a deep breath, counting to ten, and looked straight into obsidian eyes. He was unaware that he played with the exact charm on his bracelet. "I gardened a lot during the summer. Sir." Harry said, before gathering up the weeds and walking off.

Snape watched his back before silently banishing the remainder of the offending plants and heading inside, hoping his migraine would vanish with the weeds. He wasn't hungry, though he knew he needed to eat. Deciding one missed meal wouldn't hurt him, the older male skulked to his room and locked the door with a charm. Pulling off his wizard robe first, Snape hung it up in his small closet before slowly pulling his black, loose t-shirt off as well, folding it and placing it on the floor. His black slacks followed, leaving him in black boxers. He pulled those off as well, folding them in half, placing them on top of his other clothes, and stepping into the shower.

He violently turned the knob, not caring that the water was freezing cold, not caring it turned his thin lips a pale blue, and not caring that he shivered. He stood, waiting for the water to warm, hoping the change in temperature would make him come to his senses. He wasn't supposed to feel _guilty_ for misconstruing a situation with Potter- he'd been doing it for years, and had never once felt bad. Why start now? Obviously, something had come over him, and Snape decided he couldn't let it happen again.

He sighed gratefully as the water finally heated in the dark room, and grabbed his shampoo- the one that smelled of mint and rosemary, and reminded him of Lily. He massaged it into his hair, making sure he scrubbed his scalp, and then took his time rinsing it, wanting to be positive it wouldn't stay in and make his hair greasy. Though Snape chastised himself for caring, he did it anyways. Years of being called a greasy git took its toll.

After quickly washing his body, he turned off the cooling water and stepped onto his bathroom floor, reaching blindly for a towel he knew was there. He never once looked at the mirror, simply headed for his bedroom, already drying himself off. He pulled on another pair of black boxers, pulling them up quickly over his hips, then reached, in another drawer, for his dark wash jeans, to go along with another black t-shirt. It wasn't exciting, but Snape was already upset with himself for subjecting himself to muggle clothing.

He unlocked his door, changing his mind as his stomach growled, and decided to fix himself dinner. He stopped in shock as he noticed the man standing at his stove, efficiently fixing himself dinner.

**A/N: And that's where I'm leaving this chapter, Lovelies xD. I'm an awful person, yes, to leave it at a small cliffhanger like I did. I'm sorry :P. I haven't counted, but I think this chapter may be my longest yet. I hope it is, I worked hard on it. Review, as always, I love them, they keep me breathing, -Auro.**

**Its so good to be home! *falls onto bed***


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well. I would apologize for not posting, but I feel I have an excuse this time. I was working. Perfectly acceptable. Now for the detailed excuse some of you will skip, (xD) because of the short trip to the someplace this last weekend, I missed two days of mowing. I mow as a substitute for my dad when he doesn't have someone, and the last guy was a failure. So, my step-mom and I ended up mowing yesterday AND today, and I was tired. And sore. **

**Question: Any of you driven a brush hog tractor? If you have, review or PM me with the story of your first few times driving it; I want to know if I'm just pathetic for feeling terrified of running into a light pole. **

**Yep. My dad stuck me on the brush hog and went, "See ya later!" And drove away. Freakin' scary. **

**I'm lazy, and it's late, so the thanks are not named tonight. Thanks to all the ones who favorited my story, reviewed, or put me on the alert list. It means a lot. **

**On with the story, -Auro.**

Harry stood quietly, frying up potato shreds, hungry, but not overly so. He knew he'd need to give himself a week or so to acclimate himself with the unexpected heat of his temporary home. Sighing softly, he pulled the finished potatoes off the heat and slid them off of the skillet and onto a small plate. The leftovers he left on the now off stove, hoping to keep them warm a bit longer. Maybe he could entice Snape to eat some, no matter what he'd said the rules were. He sat at the table and had a forkful of food half way to his waiting mouth when he noticed the older man standing silently in the doorway.

The fork clattered loudly in the dead quiet, and Harry gulped, inanely hoping he wasn't going to be yelled at- or lectured. He took a deep breath, and asked a question, taking the initiative. "Potatoes are still on the skillet, if you'd like some." He said, proud of himself for the calm in his voice. Harry picked up his forgotten fork and took the mouthful, his eyes closing in ecstasy of his first bite of food that day. He knew a small moan escaped him, but didn't think anything of it as he slowly chewed his food and swallowed, immediately going in for another bite.

Snape watched in awe, unable to look away from the young man across the room from him, moaning so sexily- He shook his head. He would not allow himself to think of Harry in that way. It was pointless, and impossible, so he wouldn't even allow himself to hope.

The older man stalked towards the steaming potatoes still in the skillet, and slowly scooped up a small pile on the plate he pulled from his single cabinet. He picked up a fork, and, leaning against the counter, he took a small, tentative bite. He chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed.

Harry watched in anticipation, trying to tell himself he didn't care what Severus Snape thought about his cooking skill.

"Passable."

Harry grinned in relief, and dug back into his food, unconcerned now, except for everything but his hunger. The meal passed in silence, as did most things when the two were together, and Harry yawned after his last bite. He stood, dropping his plate in the sink before washing it quickly, and as he passed Snape on the way out of the small room, Harry gave him a hug.

Snape froze in shock, unable to move, and allowed the hug. He watched as the boy blushed, mumbled some excuse the man didn't catch, and then basically run from the room, his face bright red.

He smirked, wondering if his lost cause- No. Snape was still unwilling to go there.

This left Harry hiding in his room, breathing hard, face down on his bed, berating himself for even trying. "Lucky I didn't get hexed." He muttered, face buried in his pillow. "I won't be able to face him. Ever." He moaned grumpily, knowing he'd ruined whatever progress he might have made in the past two days since realizing the potions master was still alive.

His inner tantrum was interrupted, though, by the Potions Master himself, who came darkly gliding into the room holding several empty vials. "Sit up, Potter." He said, as though neither had embarrassed themselves only minutes before. "I need blood."

Harry refused to sit up, though he did hold out an arm for the man to take what he needed.

Snape snorted aloud in derision as he realized Potter had reverted into a small child, unwilling to face his actions. Deciding to let it lie for the moment, Snape gently grasped the offered arm, and using his wand, slashed a small cut, one only large enough for a small, steady stream of blood to flow into the vials he held under the arm. After four vials, Snape wordlessly closed the wound, and stoppered each vial carefully with a cork.

"I will do this nightly for the next week, Potter, and then whenever I deem necessary." Harry only nodded silently, refusing to look up, because he knew his face would probably be bright red, as well as the… Physical effect the simple touch Snape had given him had caused.

Leaving the room, Snape wondered if his guest's whole stay would continue in this manner, with them avoiding each other at all costs. If so, he knew it would be a very long stay. Shaking his head, the man headed for his makeshift potions room, locking and warding the closed door once in. He wanted no interruptions, knowing several of the potions he planned on brewing would be explosive or acidic if left untended for any period of time.

Snape wordlessly cast a fire under each of the five cauldrons he had sitting on a wooden work bench, and gathered an arm full of separate ingredients, each for different potions. He combined, chopped, sliced, and diced each ingredient, knowing he'd need the variations for this first potion. He lost track of time as he lost himself in his potion, unaware of the things going on around him.

As night passed, Harry sat on his windowsill, staring out at the moon- or so he told himself. Truly, he kept an eye on the light that was burning steadily, if a bit green, in the shed's window, waiting for Snape to call it a night and find solace and rest in sleep. Apparently, Harry was waiting in vain, because as four am came and went, he gave up and slept, worried, but tired even more so.

Waking several hours later, Harry sat up straight, his neck cricking painfully as he lifted his head from the window pane. "Damn." He muttered, rubbing his neck and back, remembering vividly why he'd stopped sleeping on his old windowsill back at Hogwarts.

Hobbling out of the room, Harry hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Snape be somewhere near so that he could beg for a pain potion. Once in the kitchen, however, he knew that, in stride with Snape's behavior, he would only be made fun of, and his decision quickly changed.

Grabbing two eggs, he cracked them in the now clean skillet he'd used the night before, and added cinnamon to the eggs before magically lighting the fire in the stove. Harry reached for a spatula, scraping the slowly cooking eggs around the pan, turning them into scrambled eggs.

Snape yawned as he stepped into the back door after a sleepless night. And much to his never ending frustration, it was a futile exercise, as every potion he'd managed to brew had failed. He noticed the black haired man at the stove again, and sighed, too exhausted to care.

"Why is it every time I see you lately, Potter, you're at the stove?" Snape asked, knowing acid laced his words, but too tired to dilute it. He shook his head, running his hand through his once again greasy hair, and headed for his bedroom, hoping for several hours of sleep before joining the world again.

Harry watched, hurt, though he didn't know why, as his former professor stalked down the hall and slammed the door closed. "Ass." He muttered, and then cursed as he desperately tried to save his fast-burning breakfast before it became inedible.

**A/N: I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. My contacts itch, I'm sleepy, my dog ate my arm, I haven't eaten in seven hours, and I'm at a loss for how to finish the next chapter. So, this is how it's ending for now, and it should be longer next chapter. I apologize again.**

**I had an anonymous review checking to make sure I wasn't giving up. I'm not, I assure all of you. ^_^ I love you all too much already to stop now. The posts may be slower, like once or twice a week, but they will come, I promise. **

**Still looking forward to those stories if any of you have ever brushed hogged, -Auro.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: … I don't have an excuse. *hides under rock* I'm very extremely sorry for putting the chapter off. I feel so awful, you have no idea. I read a fanfic a couple days ago where Snape adopted Harry, and it just really put me off Snarry for a couple days. Not to fear, I am back, and while I can't promise a fast next chapter, I can at least promise A chapter. **

**Thank you for reviews, and messages, and favorites, and alerts, I love them and eat them with my morning coffee. They taste delicious;). Continue doing so, I'm running low.**

**On with this show, Auro.**

_One Week Later_

Harry ran down the uneven dirt path, his white shirt sticking heavily to his sweat-soaked chest and back, the sun beating down on him even though it was only eight in the morning. He did this every morning, to keep in shape, and to keep himself as healthy as possible, even though his cancer was slowly winning the battle they raged. It was noted, and tucked away, that every morning, his runs became gradually shorter. One day soon, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to run at all.

Shaking off the impending doom the thought brought, Harry slowed to a jog, then a walk, and hopped, somewhat strained, onto the porch steps. He sat gingerly on the rickety wooden steps, and bent down to unlace his trainers, wincing slightly at the pain that stretching brought. He grabbed them by the laces and stood again, having to use his hands heavily to brace himself, as a sudden onslaught of pain wracked his nervous system. The wizard froze in place shivers wracking his body as he fought silently with the pain. For someone who had dealt with the torture he had in defeating Voldemort, one would think Harry could fight with such pain and come out on top. This pain, however, always won, as Harry was losing the physical will to fight it anymore.

He wasn't sure where Snape was, though he knew that the pain potion was needed or the pain could take hours to wear off. Giving up, he flopped back onto the porch, curling into a fetal position against the brace that was next to the step. His body never stopped shivering, and he could hear his own wracking breaths as his movements left his control.

The hardest thing he had ever done, after five minutes of excruciating torture, Harry managed to cast his full-fledged patronus, though it was shrouded in mist and the form unseen. "Snape. Find Snape. Need help." He gasped out, and the mist shot off. He closed his eyes, hoping to ward of the spinning of the scenery around him, though it only made the blackness behind his eyelids spin.

He must have waited several minutes before Snape had managed to appear from wherever he'd been skulking. When the man did however, all Harry could make out through blurry eyes was concern. Concern for him. Which made no sense to him, and he immediately decided he was becoming delusional from pain and that he'd only been imagining the care and concern in the snarky man's eyes.

Wordlessly, the older man helped Harry sit up, and though the younger man leaned heavily against the black clad torso, he said nothing. He simply uncorked a vial with one hand, and held it to pale lips. As the potion went down, Snape realized Harry wasn't swallowing. Concealing a worried sound, he gently massaged the throat, and couldn't cover his relieved sigh when he noticed the throat convulse. Immediately he felt the thin body relax against him, the tension abating and the green, cloudy eyes close in blissful relief.

"Thank you." He murmured gratefully, curling into the heat that was near. The potion lowered inhibitions, and after suffering from the pain that long, Harry wasn't exactly coherent anymore anyways. Snape tried to let it go, though it was a bit impossible, as the messy black-haired figure attempted, quite aggressively, to bury himself in the heat that was Snape's body.

"Potter, Potter, stop." Snape tried to command, though the tone was lacking, and even he noticed. It went ignored, and Snape sighed, standing with a dead weight in his arms. "You've gained weight." He said dryly to the unresponsive figure. Despite his snarky remark, the man had no trouble carrying the man into his room and laying him gently on the red bedspread. Looking around at the red and gold covering most surfaces, Snape grimaced.

"Couldn't help yourself, Potter?" He asked, not that he could say much, considering, though his room was tasteful in silver, browns, and blacks, his bedspread was a dark green.

"I do believe it was smart to lace the calming draught." Snape murmured to himself, leaving the room and closing the door.

After the disturbing display of the severe condition of Harry's cancer, Snape took himself to his potions room and set up seven cauldrons, enough to test every variation of one ingredient he'd discovered just recently. "Maybe one of these will work…" He muttered to himself. Absently lighting the fire under each cauldron, he slipped his wand away and pulled the sharp knife from where it was sticking up in the table. He became lost in the potion as he chopped the first ingredient.

Harry woke slowly in his own room, blearily wondering how he'd gotten there, as he distinctly remembered falling onto the porch and calling for Snape. That, however, was the last thing he remembered. Picking up his glasses from the floor where they must've fallen off his face to, he slipped them on and immediately felt a bit more awake. As he recalled his last pain episode, Harry knew his potion shouldn't have put him to sleep. He knew that Snape had most likely laced it with something else, and Harry honestly, for the first time, couldn't blame him. If the potion hadn't been laced, he doubted just the pain draught would have cured it all. It was several times more intense than any time before.

"Now I have to thank him." Harry muttered darkly, not looking forward to that particular argument. And it would be, for no conversation had gone civilly in the week and a half that he'd been there. Harry figured he'd have a snowball's chance in Hell of actually holding a pleasant conversation with the former Hogwarts dungeon bat. Ever.

Standing slowly, he noticed no pain, which was a surprise, as he always felt a dull ache. "Snape must've added a prolonged effect." He murmured, stepping towards his door. He opened it warily, but had nothing to fear as the house seemed to be empty. Unsurprised, Harry headed for the kitchen, needing something to drink. He poured himself water, gulped it in two swallows, then gave himself another glass of it, this one being only sipped at. He looked out the window, and noticed the candle burning in the garden shed. "Should've known." He said simply, uncaring. It didn't bother him that the thank you would be put off.

He wandered into the library, a small room filled floor to ceiling with books, and picked one at random before curling into the only chair in the room. He noticed it was dark arts book, but it also spoke of mist covered patronus', so Harry continued reading, curious to know why it was that his patronus was suddenly acting up.

_During times of extreme stress or trauma,_ it read,_ one's patronus, it has been found out, has been known to change. However, an inexplicable change of lifestyle, or meeting one's "other half" can change the patronus as well. If it is the latter, the patronus, after emotions have settled, will generally take on the other's very personality, usually in the form of an animal. Often, it tends to be the wizard's animagus form, if they have one. It does no good to worr…._

Harry stopped reading, deciding he'd heard enough of changing patronus' and silently wondered if his patronus was changing because of his cancer, or because of the feelings he knew he had for one Severus Snape. Either could be potentially awful, in his opinion, Harry decided as he covered his yawn with a hand. The after-effects of his pain episode began to make themselves known, and Harry fell asleep, curled into the armchair in Snape's library, the book still turned to the Patronus page on his lap.

For once happy with how the potion turned out, Snape smirked with victory. His last variation had aided one of the changes he needed, and now he only needed three others before he could test it on his patient. Slipping the successful potion into several different vials, he vanished the other cauldron's contents and set the vials in a wooden holder so they wouldn't smash. Striding out of the shed, he closed and locked the door, then silently set up several different wards, keeping unwanted visitors out. He wouldn't have his potion messed with- not after several nights of no sleep trying to figure out the variation needed to fix the problem.

Snape headed for his kitchen deciding he should probably eat, since he hadn't in over twenty four hours, first trying to avoid Potter, and then because of his preoccupation with the potion. He simply made himself a sandwich, too tired to cook, and knowing it wouldn't turn out the best, considering his sleep deprivation. He was vaguely surprised Potter wasn't standing at the stove, but disregarded it as he placed turkey and cheese on his two slices of bread and wandered into the library. He wanted to look at a potions book before sleeping, needing to see if the ingredient variation he had tried had any adverse effects, and was at his desk with the book open before noticing the form curled up in his only armchair, fast asleep. Shaking his head, Snape summoned a blanket with a flick of his wand, and let it settle over the prone form, then ignored it completely in favor of researching.

An hour later, he stood, stretching, and decided to leave Potter where he was, though he did pick up the book to put it away. Noticing the page it was on, Snape wondered why the man would be looking at a changing Patronus, but disregarded it because of his tired state and want of his warm bed. He would try to come up with a logical reason after a solid twelve hours of rest.

He headed to his room, warded it, and put a silencing spell up for good measure, just so he wouldn't have to hear anything, and so that his sleep would remain undisturbed. He felt he deserved that much. Slipping out of his outer black robes, one tiny button at a time, Snape then slipped out of his black undershirt and trousers, leaving only his black boxers on. He put his black and green pajama bottoms on and unceremoniously fell onto the bed, leaving his gracefulness on the floor with his ominous bat-like cloak. He would pick it back up when he was awake to appreciate the intimidation it caused others.

He immediately and without trouble drifted into a dreamless, one he thankful that lasted several hours, though did not last his longed for twelve.

**A/N: Well. Another chapter gone. I'm happy with it at least. It's been too long since I wrote for this. My dog tried to eat me again, wanting to help, but I resolutely said no, assuming none of you knew how to speak dog… Meaning her plot line would have been pointless ;). I hope none of you have given up on this, I'd feel awful if any of you have.**

**I took senior pictures today, on a side note. Awful things, those are. "Tilt your head, turn your neck.. Oh, your head doesn't **_**turn that way?"**_** Ugh. xD. Anyways.**

**Another unashamed plug for Nodame Cantabile. Give it a shot, it's absolutely amazing, I love it, and Chiaki. Mostly Chiaki. Maybe I'm just weird, though^^. If you do give it a shot, send me a PM of how you liked it, or hated it, or wished the other seasons were dubbed as well.**

**Don't forget to review, remember, I eat them with my coffee. ^^ -Auro.**


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